


Dancing Under The Moon

by Quon



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aphelios-centric, Multi, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Pairing to be decided
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:07:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23246752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quon/pseuds/Quon
Summary: “We have never known peace,” Alune whispers in the penumbra. “They never let us.”There is pain in her voice, and the rightful anger only she can express so beautifully. She was sitting at her vanity table, a ghost under the soft rays of moonlight. To all those who ever said Diana was the incarnation of the moon, Aphelios would like to show them this sight and treats them like the fools they were. Alune was the ominous quietness of the moon, a glimpse of its controlled might and awe-inspiring beauty. Aphelios had never met Diana, but he doubted any living creature, Aspect or not, could ever surpass his sister in anything.He couldn’t fathom today would be the last day he would be blessed with her vision.
Relationships: Alune & Aphelios (League of Legends)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	Dancing Under The Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! 
> 
> So, I have been very enthralled by Aphelios for a while now, so I just started to write about him and I'm enjoying it a lot. (And tbh, I got a lot of times on my hands in these dire times.) 
> 
> In this fic, Aphelios isn't permanently mute. There are several changes between my story and the lore, mostly when it comes to how the poison works and its origin. 
> 
> Also, I'm already asking for your help. My first pairing idea was Aphelios/Irelia, but since I tend to change my mind easily about pairings, I wanted some other ideas. For the sake of the story, I need Aphelios to be paired with an Ionia champion (Yasuo, Shen, Akali, Irelia, Zed, ..., but not Sett (sorry)). So if you enjoy this first chapter, don't hesitate to tell me what kind of pairing you would like to see, and if possible, tell me why, so I can get a feel of it. 
> 
> That's about it for the fic, I think? Have a nice read!
> 
> Please take care of yourself and your dear ones, but also of all the people around you. We should stand together in this chaos and stop being so selfish. Remember to wash your hands and only buy what's necessary, so there is enough for everyone. 
> 
> Have a nice day and stay strong! 
> 
> Love, 
> 
> Quon.

  1. **APHELIOS**



“You did well, Aphelios,” his Master said with the rarest smile.

The old man sat in front of him, examining the callouses and cuts sculpting his hands. They looked ugly and almost deformed because of all the crusted blood and mud covering them, but Aphelios was proud of them. They showed his years of hard work and expertise. He knew those hands were deadly weapons of their own. Those hands, this body; he was a weapon. He had repeated the same movements over and over again until it was so ingrained into his system that he didn’t have to think to execute it. Until his mind and body grew so dull and numb that he could not think of himself as a person anymore.

He was a well-oiled machine, meant to be the armed hand of the Lunari, just as Alune was their guiding voice. He was the shadow cast by her light, an instrument that only she could play.

“You’re ready,” the old man pursued.

He stood up dusting his silver and purple robes and indicated Aphelios to do the same.

Aphelios followed his Master through the long corridors of the cave they inhabited. He felt uneasy as he recognized the way to the main door, the one that was leading to the outside. It wouldn’t be his first time; he already felt a warm summer breeze brushing his hair and saw the endlessness of the sky. But he had been with Alune. This time he would be alone.

The first stories Lunari children are told are about the Solari. From an early age, they were thoroughly taught to fear the ‘Burning Ones’. They were depicted as beautiful and noble creatures clad in gold and blinding light, but one should always beware of their tantalizing nature because this much beauty was hiding their cruel and bounded soul. They believed in the Sun and rejected any other deity. The idea of a population believing in the Moon disgusted them so much that they made a point to eradicate every single one of them.

He had been told tales of golden-eyed tyrants wielding exalted blades and endowed sermons, crushing and defiling the Lunari for the sake of what they thought was the only true religion. They hunted them away from the lands blessed by the sunlight until they had nowhere else to go than into the darkness of caves and temples hidden from the Sun. Aphelios was not a child anymore, but he was still haunted by those stories.

He was actually more scared than when he was a child because by now, he had witnessed with his own eyes what happened when a Lunari gets caught by the Burning Ones. He knew well enough that the outside would not welcome him kindly.

His Master lead him to the woods hugging the base of the Mount Targon. Aphelios watched the sky anxiously. Part of him was humbled by its immense beauty – the full Moon was high, bathing in a sea of stars. It was awe-inspiring, and Aphelios wished this sight was one he could get used too, but he knew he would never be allowed such luxury by the slaves of the Sun.

He knelt in the middle of a clearing, his hands flat on the ground, and closed his eyes.

“Focus,” his Master instructed him.

And so, he did, opening his mind to the world. He could feel the moonbeams caressing his face, hear the fauna and flora explode with life and the stormy perfume of a preparing rain. And then, a pull. It was like gentle hands and inarticulate murmurs shivering at the edge of his consciousness, all of them pointing in one direction.

“Do you feel it?”

Aphelios hummed low in his throat, overwhelmed by those foreign sensations. The voices got louder but still unintelligible. A quivering sensation rose between his fingers. Alerted, his eyes flew open. As he looked down, he saw a small flower, nacreous and luminescent, slowly rise between his index and middle finger. He watched it in some sort of awe as it quietly shivered under the night breeze. It was compelling to the deepest part of his mind.

“This,” his Master said, seemingly far away, “is a Noctum Flower. It is linked to your very soul. It will unlock your true potential, but as you know, power comes at a great cost. Use it wisely.”

  * ••



They walked back to their hidden temple. Aphelios was still a bit stunned, holding the precious flower into his cupped hand. He was scared to damage it, even though his Master assured him that he would be able to gather one during each full Moon. It felt like a small part of him, one that he should protect no matter what. So, when his Master showed him how to grind it with a pestle, he stood very still.

“Don’t worry,” the man told him.

It didn’t ease his tension, but he knew he was being tested, once again. His Master’s eyes were watchful and cautious, expecting him to fail, yet, dreading it. Carefully and very slowly, he put the flower into the mortar and pressed it under the pestle. A swift feeling of hollowness churned into his stomach as a sweet scent rose from the ruined flower. It reminded him of Alune.

The flower was quickly reduced into a glowing powder. Aphelios poured it into a small cup of water and watched as it dissolved into the liquid and illuminated it from within.

“Drink it,” his Master instructed him, still watching from a corner of the room.

Aphelios sat on his calves and cautiously took the cup between his slightly shaking hands. He could see his own reflection into the potion, and then again, into his own pupils. He drank it in one large mouthful. It was tasteless, which disappointed him a bit, but not for long.

He acutely felt the liquid burn its way down his throat and spread into his body. The world was aflame with pain and more pain. An ugly gurgle escaped his mouth. He felt numb, yet he felt too much. Voices, angry ones, screamed and clawed at his brain, vindictive and frantic. The cup fell from his hand, a dull _thump_ resonating far away. He wanted to scream, but he was trapped in his own body and nothing could escape from it.

He knew pain. He had learnt to master it. But this, it was too much. It was true agony.

He fainted. 

  * ••



When he woke up, he smelled again Alune’s perfume and he feared that the voices and the pain would be back, but none came. Instead, he was welcome by a delicate hand combing his hair, one that he knew well. He slowly opened his eyes and was welcomed by Alune’s worried face. Her eyebrows met above her scrunched-up nose. He hadn’t seen her for a while because of their respective training. She still looked cute. She was sitting cross-legged next to his couch, probably guarding him like a ferocious dog. He opened his mouth to tell her he was fine, but only a horrible gargle came out. His throat felt dry and raw like he had been shooting all night.

Alune handed him a cup of water. Her lips were pursed, ready to fire a sermon, but she shook her head and just watched him drink.

“I’m fine,” he said, then. “The usual training.”

It wasn’t true. It had been a while since he last fainted during training. It was when he was still a slave to his own body and he could not control the pain. Now his mind reigns over everything. His body was a tool, the sharpest weapon in his arsenal. So, fainting was something that should not happen to him anymore and Alune knew it well.

“Are you still hurt?” She asked. Her tone was neutral, but he knew her well enough to hear a tremor of anger.

“I’m fine. Really,” he repeated.

He eyed his empty cup. He was still parched and his throat was still hoarse, but he didn’t dare to ask Alune for more yet. He had to pass her tantrum first.

“What happened to you, then?” Alune has always had a quick-temper, and controlling it had always been the hardest part of her learning. Her voice was still even, but an angry tremor was rising. “I asked Master Barak, but he refused to tell me anything. He told you were fine, but obviously, you are not.”

“But I am. Look!”

He pushed himself into a sitting position. He felt like wincing, but manage to refrain it. He was still stiff as if he had exerted himself too hard. He knew his sister was watching him very carefully. If he showed any sign of pain, Alune wouldn’t let him take a step outside for weeks. He took her hands between his own and patted his shoulders and face with their joint hands. “But if a small nap is what I need to do to have you visit me, then, I’ll do it more often.” She snorted and extracted her hands. She regained her composure quickly, but she smiled, so it was a small victory. He hated worrying her.

“I’m serious, Phel. Tell me what happened.”

Aphelios scratched his jaw. “Alune… You know I can’t talk about my training.”

He felt her tense and didn’t dare to argue when she stood up. “Right.”

He wondered, a bit hopeful, if it would be the end of the confrontation. But obviously, it wasn’t. She turned on her heel, a bold look on her face.

“I’ve read… books,” she started, which was nothing new. Alune was a bookworm. She rarely leaves her bedroom without a book in her bag, but he knew the tenacious part was coming next. “Some that I shouldn’t have.” She paused, it was funny to see her look so remorseful, while it was obvious, she would do it again if she had to. “One mentioned a spiritual flower,” she spoke slowly as if she couldn’t believe what she had read herself. “It’s poison, but Lunari used to drink it to get in contact with the spiritual worlds.”

Her eyes were wide, a bit with fear, but mostly with anger. “Did you… Is that what happened?”

He felt a bit detached of his own reality as he watched Alune’s small fists curl angrily by her side. “You read right,” he said, slumping on himself, giving up all effort to pretend.

“This is stupid.” Her words seemed to swell in the small room, taking more space than they should. They were loaded with pain, rage and, unbearably so, with love. “You could have died.”

She wanted to say more. He could tell by the way she pursed her lips and clenched her fist so hard her knuckles popped out white. But whatever she wanted to say, he could not hear it, because ultimately, this was not their fate.

“What if I died?” he wondered aloud. Her eyes widened. She could hear the soft edge of _something_ in his usually monotonous voice. And he also could feel the old frustration of their younger days reawakening in the pit of his stomach. Those burning feelings felt strange and foreign, but good also. He closed his eyes and watched this spark as if it was in the palm of his hand. For a second, he was tempted to let it all burn. Then, he remembered his duty, and he snared it, smothered it until it was no more. And once again, he was all quietness and emptiness. “Then, it would have meant I wasn’t worthy.”

She was angry. He can feel her simmering emotions like they were his own. He wanted to bathe in this warmth, in the liveliness of an emotional heart, but he had no right to. “Everything I do, I do for,” _~~you~~_ , “the Lunari. It is my duty.”

It was like a bucket of water onto a bonfire. Alune inhaled deeply, her burden reminded, her emotions locked away. “You are right.”

He distantly watched her standing up, dusting her dress. “It has been announced,” she said louder than necessary, “the Marus Omegnum.”

“Congratulations.”

If he saw the pain cross her face, he didn’t acknowledge it.

  * ••



“We have never known peace,” Alune whispers in the penumbra. “They never let us.” 

There is pain in her voice, and the rightful anger only she can express so beautifully. She was sitting at her vanity table, a ghost under the soft rays of moonlight. To all those who ever said Diana was the incarnation of the moon, Aphelios would like to show them this sight and treats them like the fools they were. Alune was the ominous quietness of the moon, a glimpse of its controlled might and awe-inspiring beauty. Aphelios had never met Diana, but he doubted any living creature, Aspect or not, could ever surpass his sister in anything.

He couldn’t fathom today would be the last day he would be blessed with her vision.

“But with this,” Alune says louder, “we have a chance.”

Aphelios was sitting at her desk in the opposite corner of the room. He did not answer and looked away instead. His eyes fell over her collection of books and stacks of endless notes. Her neat handwriting was covering every page. A word and name came back often. _Freedom_. _Diana_. If Alune was Aphelios’ North Star, his guide and only purpose in the endless night, Diana was Alune’s firefly, uncatchable, yet how so captivating.

It was the case for most Lunari. Diana was their shepherd, their messiah, and ever since her disappearance, their desperate obsession. Aphelios didn’t have such inclination toward the Aspect of the Moon. He dreaded her more than anything, for Alune’s sacrifice was all because Diana had fled her duty. He didn’t have his sister’s magnanimity. He didn’t care about this war between the Lunari and the Solari. He didn’t care that he was born a faithful night and promised to greatness. If he had a choice, he would flee too with his sister, far from here, in a land that would not see them as fated martyrs. If only Alune would let him.

“Phel’,” Alune called him.

When he looked at her, she was standing, watching him with this sorrow he hated himself for causing. She was wearing a flowy ceremonial dress. Its lavender colour could only highlight how pale and ethereal she was, but at least its numerous folds cover her gauntness. She was already looking like a phantom, an apparition from another world. So far away, already.

“What are you thinking?” She asked softly.

He took another second to take her in; the way she twirls her fingers nervously, how she bites her lower lips to prevent an endless flow of uncertainties from escaping it. Once again, he felt the suffocating need to beg her to flee with him, to leave their duty behind and finally know the selfish happiness of a free heart. But he knew better than sowing doubt into her mind. She would never accept. She was way too devoted to that. What she needed now what his stoic support.

He extended a hand toward her and she took it without hesitation. She let herself be pulled into his arms and softly combed his hair with her deft fingers.

“You are so brave,” he murmured into the silky texture of her dress. “I wish I was even half as brave as you.”

She took a step back and cupped his face into her hands, gently levelling their eyes. It is overwhelming to gaze into the depth of her eyes and he had to fight the emotion obstructing his throat as well as the need to look away. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been brought to tears, but this was the closest he had ever allowed himself to be.

“You are the one,” she said firmly, “who gives me all this strength.” Her thumb pressed almost painfully against his jaw and one would be surprised by how strong such a small girl was. “We share this fate together, Aphelios. This will always be us. I know the sacrifice you make, but this is what we were born to do.”

A part of him wanted to push her hand away and listen to the ball of fear that was growing in the pit of his stomach, but instead, he took it and squeezed it reassuringly.

“I trust you.”

  * ••



The temple court was eerily silent as if the entire crowd standing on each side of the road was holding its breath. They were clothed in fine robes of silk, their sober faces covered by the colourful symbols of their profession. They were dimly lit by a nascent moon, a sight that they rarely saw. The Lunari did not like getting out of their temples and caves, but this rare event was reigniting their courage and faith. The Marus Omegnum only appeared once every century after all and accepted within its wall only one new occupant. Alune had been chosen _, blessed_ by the celestial cycles.

Aphelios stood at the front row. His right hand hovered his moonstone blade. He could not help the fear curling in the pit of his stomach nor the acidic feeling rising within his throat. _It must be done_ , he reminded himself. All these years he had trained, all the blood he had spilt, all the pain and emotions he had cleansed from his being; all those sacrifices converged to this instant.

Alune slowly advanced onto the road. Her teacher walked by her side, her lips moving in what Aphelios guessed were last-minute advice. He held his blade more tightly. He sought Alune’s face for any signs of doubts, fear or even the smallest bit of sorrow, but she stood proud and void of any uncertainties. He watched with trembling fury as Alune’s teacher cupped her face, softly rearranging his sister’s braids and whispering final praise. Alune smiled to the older woman and embraced her quickly before turning to the crowd. She bowed deeply and never once looked into his direction. Not until the crowd bowed in return and he mimicked them, effortfully. Then, he felt her eyes on him. He wondered if he looked up right this moment, he would see pain and remorse into her eyes. He did not dare to. Instead, he forced his hand to fall away from his weapon and to relax his shoulders.

 _I trust you_ , he wished to say, though his mind torturously quivered with doubts.

They all felt it, the moment the Marus Omegnum breached the veil separating their world from the spiritual one. It was like a small chime causing their whole soul to quake. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Alune and her teacher kneel. Aphelios and the other members of the crowd fell on one knee, their hands folded over it and their neck bent respectfully. It appeared slowly, like one of those ghost boats they talk about in Bilgewater tales. Like a mirage, it seemed to slowly extricate itself from the very fabric of the universe.

It stood impossibly tall, nestled between the highest mounts as if it had always been there. Alune looked so small beside its humongous portal.

 _Turn back_ , he thought, _look at me just once_.

He didn’t know what he would do if she turned to look at him, but what was sure, is that he wouldn’t let her embark herself alone in an unknown temple. But she didn’t. As she rose to her feet and took her first step toward the temple, she was confident and proud.

She did not look back.

  * ••



The Solari had found them.

The sky was suddenly lit with fire. It burnt Aphelios’ eyes, only acquainted with the soft obscurity. It was painful to look at it, yet he could not look away. The night was set ablaze by the incandescent radiance of a thousand angels of scorn falling straight from the sky. No tales could do justice to such overwhelming power. Nothing could have ever prepared them for this unrestrained fury. The Lunari seemed frozen in stupor as they watched their worst nightmare descend upon them. Even Aphelios, who had trained his whole life for this peculiar moment, felt like the smallest lamb facing a pack of wolves. 

One of them came crashing down next to him, jolting him back into action. He rolled on his back and crouched to fend off a sword. Its heat licked his face, and behind it, the strength of ten men seemed to push him down.

“Heretics must die!” a woman snarled, baring her teeth like a feral beast.

She was clad in gold like Solari were described in books, but what they didn’t say was how their eyes shone with hatred. Aphelios watched with mild amazement how her incandescent sword was melting through his moonstone blade. She smirked in turn.

“See?” she exclaimed, “how vain you are, trying to fight the power of the Sun!”

She was stronger than him, crushingly so. He could feel it in the way his limbs tremble in the mere effort of holding her back. But Aphelios was used to make up his lack of strength with his agility. With a twist of his wrist, he disengaged himself from their tenuous standoff and took her momentary distraction to kick her in the solar plexus.

“Feisty, are we?” she laughed, brilliant and loud in the middle of the carnage.

Aphelios somersaulted away and made a point of his situation. The Marus Omegnum was slowly sinking back into the spirit realm in a quiet display of magic. It was like a boat leaving a harbor engulfed in flames. But it was a relief, somehow. Alune would be safe within the walls of the temple. She was utterly unreachable now. That wasn’t the case of the other Lunari. They were fighting well, but they were outnumbered and unprepared, and soon, their mangled bodies laid in ashes. Aphelios’ redeeming hope was that some of them might have escaped.

“Stay focus, pagan!” 

The sunwarrior pounded on him, her wicked sword colliding once again with his blade. He watched as more cracks appeared along the edge. It wouldn’t take much more for the moonstone to shatter into pieces. Once again, he used his higher mobility to glide around her and swiftly parry her ravenous strikes. She was all about brutish force, but heavy in her armor of gold, while he was quick on his feet. But in the end, he knew he would lose. She was playing with him, letting him exhaust himself, while she was preserving herself. And in any case, his blade wouldn’t last long.

And she knew it very well. 

“You can fight as much as you want, your fate has already been chosen by the gods. There is no place for your kind in this world.”

She gave a particularly nasty hit that he had no other choice than to block with his weapon, which eventually shattered into broken shards. He tried to back away, but she had become relentless, repetitively slashing at his fleeing form. He fell backward and used the momentum to twist his body and trip her. She fell on one knee, forced to use her sword for leverage. While she was standing back, he shifted away and took a small vial. The nebulous liquid that shone through the glass had become a familiar sight by now, but not a welcomed one.

With experienced hands, he uncapped the vial and downed it in one gulp. Now that he wasn’t knocked out by the first throb of pain, he could almost appreciate the sweet aftertaste of the poison. He had learnt to master the pain of it and channel it into a greater power that only the most selfless of the Lunari could afford. A power that required the waiver of oneself.

At first, his body tingled as it tried to fight off the poison, but quickly, it surrendered to it. The pain blossomed in the pit of his stomach and spread thoroughly in his system. He felt his throat close up, rendering him mute, and his muscles tense, coaxing the pain into a newfound energy. That’s when the voices started to rise and the spectral hands to grasp at his limbs. He pushed through them, drawing the power catalyzed by the poison.

_‘Aphelios.’_

Amongst the chaos of battle and voices, a voice rose and created silence. He held his breath, thunderstruck. How could Alune reach him? He thought she was forever lost.

_‘You can hear me, right?’_

He wanted to answer her, but no word could escape the prison of his mouth. He tried to convey his thoughts.

_‘It seems it only works one-way.’_

He wanted her to keep talking. He craved the silence her voice created around him.

_‘You are hurt.’_

Only then did he notice his busted lips, bruised skin and cracked ribs. He had trouble sometimes noticing how badly injured he was.

_‘You have to get out of here. This is not a battle we can win.’_

On cue, the Burning One caught up to him. He dove under her blows and drove his bare hands into the crease of her armor at each opening. The poison made him faster and more accurate, the celestial power illuminating his steps. The change of rhythm surprised her and her cocky smile faltered. He watched her lips move, but he couldn’t comprehend her. The voices were too loud.

_‘Use this for now. I’ll send you help.’_

A crescent-shaped pistol materialized into his hand. He looked up to the woman. All color had left her face. Was she asking her gods for help and only unveiling their mighty disinterest now? With the first hit, he felt the regenerating power of the weapon surging through him. It appeased the sting of the poison and rejuvenated his stamina. Powerful shots pierced her golden armor like paper, sinking into the vulnerable and oh so human skin beneath. In minutes, the mighty warrior was choking on her own blood, fallen.

As he turned to fight another opponent, he glanced at the barren land the temple court had become. He wondered if truly there were any gods watching over them. He felt Alune’s phantom form against his back, elevating his hand as she pressed a heavy flamethrower into it.

_‘Infernum.’_

His fingers clenched around the trigger. He guessed that he will have to show them the fire burning in the soul of his kind. 

* ••

Aphelios staggered. The poison effect was wearing down. He could feel it in the way the voices were becoming louder, angrier, desperately clutching to him as they saw him drift away from them. Sometimes, he wished he could understand what they say. He wanted to know their torment. Maybe he could help them. But not now. He didn’t know how long he would stay awake. The backlash of the poison was hitting him hard, and even though he couldn’t feel any pain, he knew he was badly injured. His body was going to shut down soon.

He leant over the long cannon of _Calibrum_ and looked around him. He was compelled to ebb this vision of war into his memory. It was his duty and burden as a survivor. The Solari had left, not triumphant, but still victorious. They were leaving behind them a no man’s land filled with ashes, blood and sorrow. Calcinated bodies lingered under the rising sun, as if their gods had finally come to contemplate the massacre. But amongst this empty carnage, some corpses were clad in gold, and that was enough to bring a bit of predatory peace to his heart.

_‘This is a price we must pay.’_

Her voice was getting more distant, smaller as it was swallowed by the others. There were other survivors. An old man stood in the distance, contemplative of the desolation. The corners of his moustache were scorched. His right arm was severed at the elbow. He was wearing the seal of the craftsmen on his face. Their eyes met, but Aphelios didn’t think the man really saw him. The desperation on his face was heartbreaking, yet revolting. Who did he lose? Was he wondering what crime he had committed to still be alive in this hell? Aphelios resented him. There was no place for hopelessness. He must fight.

_‘Time is up, Aphelios. Help is there.’_

His eyes rolled in their orbit. His consciousness was slipping.

_‘Please, only seek me when you are in dire need. I’ll be fine. You must think for yourself now.’_

Everything came crashing down. The last thing he saw before his eyelids fell shut was a cat riding a book barreling toward me.

“Hi! I’m Yuumi and …”


End file.
